You know it, I know it, the American people know it: Men don’t like to talk about – much less engage in – going to the doctor. So I thought I might make use of this platform to share a few things about my personal experience with being a fair skinned Irish guy who has, is, and will, ALWAYS have to monitor his moley moley moley complexion…
This past week I (for the umpteenth time) had to have a bunch of pre-whatever-ish growths cut out of my face. It’s basically like having a guy in a butcher’s coat come into the room and go to town on you with a mellon baller on your forehead. Thing is, it’s important in a couple of ways:
If you’ve had lifelong sun exposure (as most of us have here by the ocean) you’ve got sun damage. It is what it is. So, in addition to seeing your regular doc (which, once again, us dudes don’t do enough to begin with) you’ve got to get every little freckle checked out just in case. Because whether a blemish looks like nothing and can kill you, or is disfiguring but won’t kill you, you need to have that S-H-I-Thursday cut out and analyzed.
You gotta get it carved, popped, squeezed, shoved, pinched, excised, whatever. Sometimes biopsied. This week I was diagnosed with Schamberg’s disease , a skin disorder that causes a discoloration of the lower extremities. It usually occurs in the lower extremities and rarely elsewhere. This condition is caused by leaky blood vessels near the surface of the skin. The cause of the leaky capillaries is usually not known. And it mostly happens to men.
So pretty please, with sugar on top, call the f’ing doctor if you think something’s looking wacky. It never hurts to ask, but it does hurt – a lot – to ask once it’s too late.